


Child of Mine

by Moonheart13



Series: Alternate Universes [3]
Category: South Park
Genre: Child Abandonment, Implied Mercenary work, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2019-11-01 15:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17869529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonheart13/pseuds/Moonheart13
Summary: In which Gregory offers to help out his best friend and makes a few interesting discoveries along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

Gregory placed his briefcase down, rubbing at his tired eyes. Today hadn’t been awful, not even close, but he was looking forward to burrowing into his bed of warm blankets and entertaining himself with _Singin’ In the Rain_ for the eighteenth time.

He shrugged off his suit jacket, placing it in the laundry bin. He had already begun to think of heating up his leftover Chinese food from the fridge when he received the text.

**I am fucked. Send help.**

Gregory rose an eyebrow, sending a reply quickly.

_Getting lucky tonight, are you? Congrats._

**You’re not helping.**

_How about you explain the problem, then?_

Gregory leaned against his kitchen counter, awaiting Christophe’s next reply. His longtime friend had always had a tendency for histrionics, especially when it came to small issues.

**Remember that job I wanted to take in Denver?**

_You said they passed on you?_

**The fucker they picked got sick. I was next in line.**

_Okay, so how are you fucked?_

**There’s no one to watch Benson.**

“Oh no,” Gregory said aloud.

Normally, Christophe worked as a landscaper, cutting grass on college campuses or assisting in the cutting down and replanting of trees. However, since adopting Benson, everything had changed.

Gregory was sure he’d never know the full story, but what he’d gathered was that Christophe had found Benson as a little boy, barely even a toddler, abandoned. The boy had been attempting to find food in a dumpster when Christophe had caught sight of him.

Despite the tiny child putting up quite a fight for someone his age, Christophe had managed to bring him home. After some searching and many calls, he discovered the kid was truly abandoned. No parent that was looking for him, no easy way to track down anyone that matched his DNA.

And that’s how Christophe ended up as a single father. Since then, his money had become tighter, trying to support himself and Benson, the name he’d given him, so he’d been on the search for old mercenary jobs on the side. Even though he’d sworn off them long ago, it was still a field he excelled in.

_When is the job?_

**Tonight. Nine on the nose. I’ll probably be gone until four in the morning.**

Gregory glanced at his clock in the corner.

Half-past eight.

_Shite. You are fucked._

**Told you.**

Gregory bit into his lower lip.

_I’ll watch him._

**What? Non, you have work tomorrow.**

_I’ll call off._

**Gregory, non.**

_I can miss a day. I still have lots of vacation days left._

**Greg.**

_You need this paycheck. Let me do this. I’ll be over in five minutes._

**Okay, but I’m paying you.**

_Don’t be ridiculous._

Gregory snatched his keys from the bowl next to his door, the metal still warm from a few minutes ago. He tugged his coat jacket back on from the coat rack, his cap following suit.

**Gregory, you’re going out of your way to help me. It is the least I can do.**

_Don’t argue. Be there soon._

***

Using his spare key, Gregory entered Christophe’s apartment. “Chris?”

He could hear the stumbling footsteps from the hallway before a frenzied looking Christophe appeared. He looked worn and unprepared, given his messy hair and lack of shoes or a jacket.

“Gregory,” the man spoke breathlessly, “I need to get out the door right fucking now. He’s already in bed, but I haven’t read him his story. If he’s hungry, there’s some chicken and potatoes on the counter. And—oh, if he wakes up, play him some music—” He checked his watch, swearing under his breath. “I need to go, fuck—”

“Hey,” Gregory replied, moving to grab his shoulders as Christophe’s panicked green eyes met his blue ones. “It’s okay. Just go. I’ve got everything under control.”

Christophe looked hesitant before giving a brief nod. “Oui. Goodbye. Merci.”

The Frenchman rushed to tug on his boots, snatched his jacket under his arm before he was out the door, accidentally slamming the door behind him.

Gregory let out a soft breath at the sight before he turned back around, briefly startled at the sight of a small child before him.

Ah, yes. The enchanting Benson.

Gregory had met Benson quite a few times since Christophe had adopted him. The boy had always seemed wary of him, for some reason. Christophe had told him not to worry about that, claiming that it had taken him months for Benson to accept food from him without suspicion or even let Christophe within three feet of him.

The little boy stared up at him with his almond colored eyes, his black curls sticking out awkwardly on his head. He hugged tightly onto a mole plushie that Gregory remembered Benson had named ‘Mr. Tunnel’. He remembered considered when he’d heard the name, he’d thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever heard.

“Hi there, kiddo,” he said, smiling widely. He dropped down to one knee so he could be more at the child’s level. “Your Papa has a very important job to go to.”

Benson’s gaze remained on Gregory, his tiny brow scrunched up in thought. He fingered Mr. Tunnel’s plastic nose, biting into his lower lip.

“But I’m here,” Gregory supplied, “And I’ll take care of you tonight. Now, would you like me to read you a story?”

“I want Papa.”

Oh, great. It was going to be like that.

“I know, honey,” Gregory said, truly sympathizing with the little boy. “And the both of us wish he could be here with you, but he can’t tonight.”

The boy frowned now, seeming to send daggers through his eyes at Gregory.

“Benson,” Gregory said, his voice gentle, but firm, “Let’s go to your room and get you tucked in, okay?”

The child remained in his spot, looking like he was deciding his next move. His eyes quickly darted at all the possible exits in the hallway, making Gregory’s back seize up in anxiety.

“Ben—” And then, he was off.

The boy rushed into the kitchen, Gregory hot on his heels once he’d stood back up.

“Benson, come here, right now!” Gregory called out.

The boy got to the kitchen’s island counter, crouching slightly behind it. Gregory slowed down his efforts, weighing his own options. Maybe the boy wanted to play a little game? While he should be in bed, Gregory would play along for a little while if it tired the kid out.

“Hmm,” he hummed out loud. “Where could he have gone?” He walked around the kitchen, moving slowly, his footsteps loud enough to be heard. He neared the island, peering over it with a “ah-hah!”, only to be met with nothing.

Nothing? No, he’d seen him rush over here!

Then, he heard a shout and looked up in time to see the child now on top of the island brandishing a whisk in one hand and a plastic ladle in the other.

And, of course, the child lunged at him.

Gregory screamed in surprise as the kid slammed into him, beating at him with his weapons while managing to not slip from the counter. Gregory lifted his arms up to shield himself, just so Benson didn’t poke him in the eye.

“Benson! Get off!” he cried out.

“Bring! My! Papa! Back!”

Fuck, hadn’t Christophe had a chance to talk to this kid about tonight?

Then again, he really shouldn’t be all that surprised. The kid was abandoned and living on the streets at two years old, only to be raised by an ex-mercenary.

Things could probably be worse for Gregory at this moment.

Still, Gregory was quickly growing tired of such nonsense and reached out his hands, snatching onto Benson’s wrists. Despite his determination, Benson was still just a four-year-old child trying to overpower a twenty-five-year-old man. Benson tried to pull out of his grip, struggling as if his life depended on it.

“Benson,” Gregory called out again, still hanging onto the boy’s wrists which wasn’t an easy task as he started to kick his little legs at Gregory. “Benson!”

When the little boy reached the conclusion that he was stuck, his efforts stopped. He glared again at Gregory, his lower lip sticking out in a fierce pout.

“Look,” he said to the little boy, “I know you want your dad. And you don’t want me. But you don’t have a choice tonight. Your dad is out there making money so you can stay nice and warm here.” Gregory gave a sigh, finding his current position ridiculous. “Beating me up isn’t going to bring your dad back.”

The boy appeared less hostile, but he still didn’t look agreeable. At least he was responding to reason.

“And you know what? Your dad is my best friend in the whole world,” Gregory said, a smile tugging onto his face. “I care about him so much. And that means I care about you, too. I know that might be hard to believe, but I do.”

Benson’s gaze fell to the island, his small feet moving against the countertop.

“Can you give me a chance?” Gregory asked hopefully.

The child looked hesitant, but Gregory could see the tiredness in the little boy’s eyes. Cautiously, Gregory released his wrists, watching as they fell to the boy’s sides. He gently took the boy’s “weapons” and placed them on the other counter.

“Are you hungry at all?”

Benson shook his head.

“Feeling sleepy?”

A shrug.

Gregory held out his arms to Benson. “Let’s go to your room, huh?”

Benson didn’t take the offer to help him down, instead moving to the edge of the island and expertly climbing off. He went in the direction of his room, pausing to pick up his plushie. He took it in his arms, giving its head an affectionate stroke and then pulled it into a hug.

Had Gregory not been violently attacked minutes prior, his heart might have melted.

The two headed into Benson’s room, the boy automatically bounding over to his bed. The room wasn’t all that decorated, but then again, this was Christophe. As Gregory remembered from the last time he’d seen the room, it had a bed, a nightstand, a drawer, a bookshelf, and a little table and chair. On the nightstand, there was a plain, little lamp lit, presumably used for telling stories.

Gregory tugged the chair over as Benson got situated in bed. He glanced down at the bookshelf, giving a hum. He looked to Benson. “Has your Papa read all these books to you?”

Benson looked thoughtful before shaking his head.

“Is that so, huh?” Gregory began to file through them. He’d always loved children’s books, even after he grew out of being read them. They usually taught such sweet lessons and gave his heart such a happy feeling. “Hmm…oh, my. I haven’t seen this in years.”

He tugged out a copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ , smiling at the cover of the titular character holding a small bottle tagged ‘drink me’.

“Has your Papa read you this?” he asked, showing the cover to Benson.

The boy squinted before shaking his head.

“This was one my favorite stories when I was little,” Gregory said, opening it up and flipping through the pages briefly. “My dad used to read it to me all the time.”

He glanced back at Benson who, although he looked awake, had snuggled into his blankets, clutching Mr. Tunnel under his arm. He smiled at the boy before turning back to the book.

Upon clearing his throat, he began to read. “Chapter One, Down the Rabbit Hole. Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do—”

“They were on top of that big building?” Benson interrupted, looking confused.

“Building…? Oh. Oh, no, this type of bank is usually called a riverbank. Have you ever gone fishing with your father? Or maybe on a hike near a river?”

“Oh,” the boy said, leaning against his mountain of pillows.

Gregory smiled again before looking back at the book. “—once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations on it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice, ‘without pictures or conversations?’”

As Gregory spoke and the tale began to unfold, he chanced a few glances over at Benson, the boy’s head tilted in interest. Gregory tried not to pause, except to breathe or clear his throat, partly to keep himself awake and he was thrilled that he had Benson’s rapt attention. The boy asked a question here or there, but mostly kept quiet, listening intently.

“Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do,” Gregory continued to read, as he had for several minutes, “So Alice soon began talking again. ‘Dinah’ll miss me very much to-night, I should think—’”

Then, Benson said, quite out of nowhere, “You read better than Papa.”

Gregory was startled from his place in the book, glancing over at Benson with a curious expression. “Beg pardon?”

“You read better. Papa falls asleep a lot before he finishes the book. And he doesn’t do funny voices like you and Mr. Pip.”

Gregory smiled at the sound of their mutual close friend. “Does Mr. Pip read you stories often?”

“Sometimes,” Benson said with a shrug. “He comes by to check on Papa when Papa doesn’t feel well.”

Gregory’s brow furrowed. “Your Papa gets sick a lot?”

“He drinks that weird water and gets really tired.”

Oh, dear. “Does he do that a lot?”

Benson shrugged. “I wanna hear more of the story.”

Gregory restrained a sigh, returning his attention back to the book. Yet, he couldn’t ignore the pit that had formed in his stomach.

***

As the sun began to rise, Gregory’s eyelids started to slip closed. He was seated in the armchair in the living room, facing the door. He’d been awake all night and only now was the exhaustion hitting him like a truck. Benson had conked out somewhere around one in the morning, after a few quick games of the card game, War, and a few more chapters from _Alice in Wonderland_.

All night long, even once Benson fallen asleep, the thought of Christophe drinking himself into a stupor never left his mind. Why hadn’t he called him during those times? Did he think Gregory would be angry? Perhaps, he might be a little disappointed, but he could help him! He trusted Phillip more than him with his drinking problem?

While Phillip was a great friend, he and Christophe had been friends for years. Since they moved to the town of South Park. Why would he shut him out of such an important issue?

Then, he heard the telltale sound of a key turning into a lock on the door.

His eyes snapped open, watching as Christophe wandered inside. He looked as tired as Gregory felt, his weary eyes meeting Gregory’s gaze.

“Salut,” he muttered.

“How did it go?” Gregory asked.

“I’m here,” was the only reply as Christophe headed for his bedroom.

Gregory stood, calling out quietly, “Christophe?”

The man turned back to him, eyes hazy. “Oui?”

“Are you—” He cut himself off, glancing at the ground.

“Gregory?” Christophe prompted. “What is it?”

“No. Nevermind. Get some sleep.”

“Is Benson okay? Was he trouble?”

Gregory gave a short laugh. “A little. But we got along just fine. I’ll tell you more later.”

Christophe nodded. “Alright, good.” He moved to the bedroom again, only to pause and say, “Thanks, Gregory. For watching him.”

“Of course,” Gregory replied. “Do you mind if I sleep here? I feel too drowsy to get behind the wheel.”

“You’re always welcome,” he replied with a nod and then he was gone.

Gregory organized the pillows onto the sofa haphazardly, eventually pulling the quilt draped onto the back of the sofa over his person. He was still in his nice workpants and white-collared long-sleeve, but his fatigue had finally taken its toll and within a minute, he was fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gregory and Christophe have a little chat.

Gregory pressed his face against the pillow, feeling his bladder straining. He forced his eyes open, already intent on heading to the bathroom when he was met with a pair of dark eyes only a few inches from his face.

He let out a half-awake yell of surprise, flattening himself against the back of the couch.

“You mumble in your sleep,” Benson remarked from his spot on the floor, arms leaning on the couch.

“Benson!” Christophe scolded from the kitchen. “Quit scaring Gregory and eat your damn breakfast.”

Benson scratched his nose as he watched Gregory a few seconds longer before heading back to the kitchen. Gregory sat up, running a hand through his curls. He got up once he had his wits about him, quickly making it to the bathroom.

After leaving, he moved into the kitchen, noticing the two at the kitchen table. Christophe eating his cereal with a blank, tired stare at his orange juice, while Benson seemed to be trying to get the cereal bits that looked the same all onto his spoon at the same time.

“What time is it?” Gregory asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Ten,” Christophe said. “Benson wanted to get up.” He glanced up at Gregory, gesturing to the cereal box. “Help yourself.”

Gregory grabbed a bowl from one of the cabinets, as he did last night for dinner once Benson had drifted off, and poured himself a little cereal. Once he was settled, he took a seat with them.

“So,” Christophe said, “How was your night?”

Gregory glanced over at Benson on instinct, only to find the little boy looking at him curiously.

“Benson took a little while to settle down, but he got to sleep at a good hour,” Gregory replied vaguely, still watching the boy.

Benson’s head tilted to the side, brow furrowed. He said nothing, only continued to eat his cereal.

“And your night?” Gregory asked.

Christophe shrugged. “I did what they asked me.”

Gregory only gave a nod. Even if Benson weren’t here, Christophe would have given him a similar answer. When he’d done mercenary work quite often back when they were teenagers, he rarely told Gregory about his missions. The only clues he ever received was from Christophe’s injuries. A busted lip, a black eye, a broken rib, a scratch on his cheek, etc. The older they became, the more Gregory demanded to help fix him up or if the injury was worse than usual, make up a story to tell the EMTs when he called them.

He could still remember the enormous relief he’d felt the day Christophe told him he was quitting his job to be a landscaper.

“Papa?” Benson asked. “I wanna go play.”

Christophe leaned over, glancing at Benson’s bowl, before leaning back to continue eating. “Three more spoonfuls and you can go play.”

The little boy frowned before, at a rapid speed, he shoved three spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth. By the time they were all in, his cheeks had puffed up like a chipmunk.

“Swallow,” Christophe said, without looking up.

Benson made a face before painfully swallowing it all down. Then, he hopped off his seat, rushing to his room.

“So how was he, really?”

Gregory smirked. “He attacked me with a whisk.”

A sigh. “Of course he did.”

“It wasn’t all that bad,” Gregory said. “I read him a story and he eventually fell asleep. He just missed you terribly.”

Christophe grunted. “Thanks for coming over last night.”

Gregory fingered the end of his spoon. “Was Phillip not available?”

He hadn’t meant for it sound so passive-aggressive and he winced once the question had left him.

Christophe stilled beside him. “Ah. So the pipsqueak told you?”

“No, actually,” Gregory replied. “Your son did.”

Christophe placed the spoon back on the edge of his bowl. “Gregory, he’s only four—”

“He knows that you’re drinking.”

A strained silence fell over the two for a pregnant pause.

“So what? Did you go digging into my personal life?”

Gregory’s shoulders tensed. “I’ve never done that. And frankly, I’m offended that you would even accuse me of that.”

“Then why did he bring it up?”

“He just did,” Gregory answered honestly. “I read him a story and he mentioned how Phillip read to him. And then he talked about you getting sick and drinking the ‘weird water’.”

Christophe rubbed at his forehead, eyes squeezing shut.

“Christophe, how long has this been happening?”

“…these last few months,” came the quiet answer.

“Why?” Gregory asked gently, cautiously placing a hand on Christophe’s bicep.

“Work has been tight. And Benson is going to start going to school soon. He should have started half a year ago, but he doesn’t like being without me. I have to keep sneaking him into work because he hates daycare and I don’t trust some random fucking babysitter to watch him and all my friends work during the day and I have to go to work or else no money is going to come in and then I can’t support either of us—”

At some point during his rant, tears pricked at the corners of Christophe’s eyes and his voice became a pathetic warble.

“Christophe?” Gregory whispered, watching his friend.

“I’m this close to fucking crying,” Christophe said, holding his index finger and thumb together.

“But they’re touching.”

“Exactly.”

And then, the tears fell as if the Hoover Dam itself had broken.

Gregory sat there, stunned. While this wasn’t the first time he’d seen Christophe cry, especially so openly, the occurrence was a rarity to behold. Gregory slowly stood, moving to wrap his arms around him, head dipping down to lay against his hair. Christophe gripped him back, crying quietly against his stomach.

It wasn’t long before Christophe pulled away, wiping at his face haphazardly. Gregory sat back down in his seat, still watching him closely.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Gregory inquired, taking his hand. “I’m glad you told Phillip so he could help you, but—”

Christophe shook his head. “I did not mean to tell him. I drank so badly I passed out. He had come over to drop off some cupcakes he made for Benson.” He stared at the bowl of soaked cereal. “Benson answered the door and Phillip saw me. Since then, he’s been badgering me.”

“Let me guess, he didn’t tell me because you told him not to.”

Christophe became suddenly interested in scratching at a coffee stain on the table.

“Christophe?”

“Because I knew this would happen. You would come in and get all up in my shit.”

“As your friend, I shouldn’t be concerned? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Non, it is just…”

Gregory’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Christophe, talk to me.” He squeezed his hand tighter. “I’m not judging you. I want to help.”

“Maybe I don’t want any help.”

“But you _need_ help. You have Benson now and—”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” Christophe hissed, his green eyes blazing back at Gregory.

“I don’t think you’re fully aware of the consequences,” Gregory stated firmly. “If you keep this up, you’ll either kill yourself or hurt that child.”

Christophe wrenched his hand away from Gregory’s, standing up from his seat, the chair letting out a screech as it slid across the floor. “Don’t you ever say that again,” he growled. “I would never hurt him.”

Gregory stood up, not one to ever back down from Christophe. “Not intentionally,” he replied, meeting his gaze. “Every time you drink, you’re missing precious moments with him. Or even worse, he could have an accident and you can’t help him because you’re passed out on the floor.”

“Shut up,” Christophe spat.

“And that’s not even covering what this is going to do to him mentally,” Gregory continued. “What if you’re so drunk, you frighten him? Or he gets his hands on the alcohol himself? I’ve seen how resourceful he is, he could find it.”

“Get out of my home,” Christophe snarled, pointing to the door.

“You’re heading into a downward spiral, just like you did when you started college. I’m not going to let that happen again.”

Christophe reached out a hand, to possible grab Gregory’s wrist, presumably to lead him toward the door. However, Gregory’s hand shot out, stopping him. He gripped Christophe’s forearm, eyes remaining on Christophe’s.

The two stared at each other for a long moment, green meeting blue. The only sound that echoed in the room was the clock above the sofa in the living room, ticking endlessly.

Christophe began to relax his arm. Gregory followed suit with his hand.

Slowly, the two sat back down.

“Why did you take Benson in?” Gregory asked softly.

“…he was so young,” Christophe said, after a little while, glancing down at his hands. “Little legs and little arms and a little nose. Yet his eyes…his eyes looked like an adult’s eyes. It reminded me of myself. That sounds cliché and stupid, I know, but it was my first thought when I saw those eyes. Too small to be filled with so much pain and fear.”

“You could have put him into foster care.”

“And let him go through family after family, experience more bullshit and be abandoned all over again? Lose trust or run away himself? Allow him to grow up and become a criminal?” Christophe shook his head. “I could not risk it.”

“Did you ever see yourself as a parent?”

“Non,” Christophe answered immediately. “I don’t even now, really. I take care of him. I shelter him. But I am no father.”

“Then why does he call you ‘Papa’?” Gregory inquired, smiling gently.

“He doesn’t know any better.”

“He knows more than you think. Children notice everything.”

Christophe grunted again.

“He loves you. He loves you the same as if you were the same flesh and blood as him.”

“It’s amazing he’s survived this long in my care.”

“Stop it,” Gregory chided him gently. “Be kind to yourself.”

“I cannot…”

“Then I will have to be kind enough for the both of us.” Gregory took his hand again, holding it between his two. “You need help. Please, let me do so.”

“You have work—”

“I can work from home. I’ve had the option for a while now. I have a lot in my savings for a few rainy days.” He smiled wider. “I can pick up the slack for you. And it’s not charity before you say anything. It’s my gift to you. And I will not accept any payment, now or in the future.”

Christophe hand shook in Gregory’s grasp, his face scrunched up in a frown. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Au contraire, mon ami,” Gregory said, “I know exactly what I’m getting into.”

“So, what does this mean? You’ll just come over here every day to watch him?”

Gregory shrugged. “It makes sense. I can watch him and do my work.”

Christophe snorted humorlessly. “He’s an all-day and all-night job, Gregory. You won’t get any work done.”

Gregory frowned. “I did just fine last night.”

Christophe nodded. “That was one night. Can you imagine doing that during the day and the night? Every single day? No breaks?”

Gregory opened his mouth before closing it suddenly. He looked down at the table before replying, “I’m not saying I know what I’m doing. But I want to try.”

“You’re doing that white knight thing again.”

Gregory fell silent.

“You can’t just come in here and fix everything with a wave of your hands, Gregory,” Christophe sighed. “I know you mean well. I know it. But you cannot help. You’ve never raised a child and you don’t know the first thing about it.”

“…okay,” Gregory said after a moment, “How about you quit your job? Or at least switch your hours around somehow?”

“What?”

“Take over watching Benson. And I’ll go to my job as usual, but my pay—”

“Gregory, please. That’s fucking ridiculous. You’re going to pay for our expenses _and_ yours? My apartment and your place?”

The blond tugged at his short curls idly. “Well. What if I moved in?”

Christophe’s brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

Gregory’s face was a burning pink now, clearing his throat. “I know it sounds stupid, but doesn’t it make sense? I would only have to pay for this apartment and then you wouldn’t have to work.”

“You’ve only had to support yourself, Gregory. Sure, you may have some savings—”

“A _lot_ of savings.”

“—but eventually you’ll be forced to work paycheck to paycheck. Do you really want that?”

“What have I been doing that’s worthwhile?” Gregory shot back fiercely, slamming his fist down on the table. Instantly, he realized how loud he was being, glancing back at Benson’s bedroom door.

It was still partly open, but Benson didn’t seem to appear.

Then, quieter, Gregory continued, “I check bank accounts all day. I read files. Do you have any idea how monotonous that is? And earning for what? My student loans have been mostly paid off by now. I don’t have a chance of getting a promotion for a long time. And it’s not like I have a family or anyone else I’m supporting now.”

“This is still going to change everything for you,” Christophe insisted.

“I’m prepared to do that,” Gregory replied. “You need the help.”

Christophe released a small sigh, opening his mouth to say something before Benson appeared from his bedroom, heading back into the kitchen. The little boy bounded over to the two men, shoving _Alice in Wonderland_ into Gregory’s lap.

“Can my story be early? I wanna know what happens,” Benson said, staring up at Gregory expectantly.

Gregory’s eyes fluttered in surprise, glancing down at the book before he met Christophe’s gaze. He quirked a tiny grin, turning his attention back to Benson.

“Maybe I can read you a little bit right now,” Gregory replied, “But we should save most of it for bedtime.”

“How come?” Benson replied, scrunching up his button-nose.

“Storytime makes you look forward to going to bed, right?”

Benson made a noise of agreement after considering Gregory’s theory. “I guess. But can you read just a little bit?”

“Just a little.” Gregory stood up, still smiling gently. “Let’s go sit on the couch, hm?” He looked over at Christophe. “If that’s alright with you?”

“Completely,” Christophe replied, his gaze steady.

Gregory’s smile widened before he led Benson into the living room. He sat down, watching as Benson crawled up into the seat next to him.

Christophe moved to pick up their breakfast bowls, heading to the sink. He paused only another moment, observing as Gregory found his place in the book and began to read. Benson curled closer to Gregory, only a few spare inches between them.

With a quiet sigh, he looked away, placing the bowls in the sink. His fingers itched to grab a bottle of whiskey from his stash downstairs. His stash of only two bottles, but a stash nonetheless.

Instead, he busied his hands with washing the bowls, allowing himself to relax as Gregory’s tale of Alice in Wonderland entertained his child.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gregory and Benson spend some time together.

“Benson, come on, this isn’t funny.”

Gregory stalked through the hallway of the tiny apartment, his eyes darting around every corner. The towel in his hands was being gripped so tightly, the whites of his knuckles were clearly visible.

“You need to take a bath, Benson.”

He saw a brief movement from Christophe’s bedroom, the door slightly ajar. He quietly made his way there, preparing himself for whatever lay beyond.

“When your papa gets home, he’ll be very upset you didn’t listen,” Gregory warned, yet kept his tone casual. “This will be a lot easier if you just let me—”

Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, the blurry shape of Benson rushed past him. Gregory followed, managing to wrap an arm around Benson’s waist. He snatched him up, ignoring the struggling little boy.

They made it to the bathroom, Benson only managing to break free too late as Gregory shut the door. He locked and stood in front of it, arms folded. Benson looked up at him, a scowl on his face.

“Time to take your bath,” Gregory said firmly, pointing to the bathtub, filled with water only halfway.

“No,” the boy hissed, as if Gregory was sending him into a gas chamber.

“Yes,” Gregory stated back, snapping his fingers and pointing to the tub once again.

“Nope!” Benson replied, his scowl forming into more of a sneer.

“I can stand here with you all night,” the Brit said, placing the towel down on the counter, “However, your papa will be home within the hour.”

The boy’s scowl returned in full force. “I wanna go play with trucks. Let me out or I’ll scream. You big, stupid dummy.”

“How clever,” Gregory drawled. “You can play with trucks after your bath. I promise you that. And as far as screaming, I’ll have you know I have a very low patience for children who scream just to get their way.”

Benson’s frown deepened and as he sucked in a breath, presumably to scream, Gregory snatched him into his arms.

And proceeded to tickle him.

A loud laugh bellowed out of Benson, despite his kicking feet and thrashing head. Gregory was merciless, going for his stomach and his neck, both sensitive spots. Eventually, he ceased in his actions, watching as Benson breathed hard through his aftershock giggles.

Benson turned to him once he’d gotten himself under control and seemed more relaxed. He still had that suspicious gleam in his eye, but less so now.

“Now,” Gregory said, panting a little bit himself, “Will you take your bath?”

“Mmmm,” Benson hummed, thinking it over. “If you read to me.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Gregory agreed. “We can pick up right where we left off. Do you remember what happened last?”

He got down onto his knees and held his hands out, showing Benson what he intended to do next. The boy appeared hesitant for only moment before he shot his arms up in the air, answering Gregory.

“Alice met the kitty cat with the funny smile,” he said as Gregory tugged his shirt off.

“Yes, the Cheshire cat,” Gregory agreed. “Do you remember what happened to the kitty?”

As Gregory continued to undress him, Benson answered, “Umm…it went away?”

“It vanished,” Gregory elaborated. “As if it had never been there.”

“Can all kitties do that?”

“Mm, maybe not like the Cheshire cat, but kitties are very quick.”

“I want a kitty. Papa said he wants one, too.”

Gregory smiled at that, carefully lifting Benson up and depositing him into the tub. “Well, hopefully you can get one soon.”

Benson squirmed. “It’s too cold!”

“It would have been warmer had you gotten in and not played games with me,” Gregory countered, grabbing a small container and turning on the hot water for half a minute. “Now, can you tell you tell me what else Alice has been doing in Wonderland?”

“She met, umm, that bug thing.”

“The caterpillar, that’s right,” Gregory encouraged as he handed Benson the soap. “Remember to spread that everywhere, okay? Now, what else?”

As Benson soaped himself up, he recounted everything in Wonderland he remembered Gregory telling him. He spoke of the talking door, the caucus race, and the white rabbit. Gregory poured water over him, glad to keep him distracted by the story for as long as possible. Soon, he was wrapping a towel around the boy, fluffing up his dark hair with another towel.

Gregory could hear the distant sound of the front door opening and Christophe’s voice calling out, “It’s me.”

“We’re in the bathroom!” Gregory called back, grabbing a clean nightshirt of Benson’s that he’d laid out on the counter previously.

By the time Gregory had tugged Benson’s shirt on, followed by his little boxers, Christophe knocked on the door. “Everything alright?”

“Yep!” Gregory replied as he stood, gently leading Benson to the door. He unlocked it and tugged it open, watching as Benson immediately flew to Christophe.

Christophe hauled him up into his arms, Benson snuggling against him, only for the latter to remark loudly, “You’re cold!”

“I was just outside and it’s very cold out there,” Christophe explained, patting Benson’s damp curls. He glanced at Gregory. “Bath better this time?”

“He fought me a little, but we negotiated.”

Benson perked up at that, already squirming in Christophe’s arms. “Storytime! You promised!”

Gregory smiled, giving a nod. “I promised, you’re right. How about you get all snuggled up in bed and I’ll read you another chapter?”

Benson kicked with enthusiasm until Christophe placed him down, the boy quick to rush to his bedroom.

“Sorry for sticking you with bath time,” Christophe mumbled, moving back to the kitchen.

“Don’t be. It really wasn’t that bad,” Gregory said, noticing the multiple bags of groceries splayed across the counters and kitchen table. “Did you get everything on the list?”

“Oui. Except your tea. They did not have it.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I’ve got enough for a few more days. I can always do a run later in the week.”

Christophe nodded, beginning to put the grocery items away. Gregory fell into step near him, focusing on tugging everything out of the shopping bags.

“By the way,” Gregory said, glancing over his shoulder at Christophe, “I found an elementary school that I think might be a good fit.”

Christophe looked back at him, an eyebrow arched. “How much?”

“It’s fairly reasonable. I spoke to a lovely lady named Marcie and she told me they specialize in—” He paused, trying to choose his words carefully. “…children with a unique upbringing.”

A snort. “So, she means the damaged ones?”

“No,” Gregory said with a sigh, “And you know what I mean. They have a lot of experience with foster kids and adopted kids. Which is good. And Benson could start in the fall. That may be a few months away, but that will give us plenty of time to figure out a new system.”

“New system?” Christophe echoed.

“Who will be dropping him off and picking him up,” Gregory replied. “Or if one of us should drop him off in the morning and then the other can pick him up. We are absolutely not letting him ride on some bus. They stink and I do not trust bus drivers.”

Christophe gave a small chuckle. Gregory turned back at the sound, hand on his hip.

“And what, pray tell, is so funny? Haven’t you seen those terrible videos of crazy bus drivers?”

“Non, non, you just—” Christophe chortled. “You sound like such a dad.”

Gregory’s eyebrows raised at the statement, turning back to his bag of groceries without a reply.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he’d never thought about being a dad. On the contrary, he’d imagined having a family since high school. Still, as college came and went, his first job and then his second flew by, and eventually his current one left him very much alone. He’d even thought about adopting a child but felt his chances as a single parent weren’t all that good. Besides, he did believe a kid should have more than one parent.

He put the food away in silence, the words echoing in his mind. He could see Christophe glancing at him over his shoulder, although the other man said nothing.

The evening progressed from there much like most evenings they’d had in the last few weeks. Gregory read Benson another chapter of _Alice in Wonderland_ , followed by a quick reading of _The Velveteen Rabbit_. Afterwards, he took his own shower and soon found himself wrapped up in his pajamas and his own orange robe.

He was sat on the couch, flipping through a few excel sheets, highlighting this and that. The television was on at a low volume, some sort of cartoon on.

“Hey,” Christophe called out, taking a seat beside him. He had a glass of Ovaltine and a bowl of crackers, placing them on the coffee table.

“Hey,” Gregory echoed, finishing up a section. “What’s up?”

“Are you sure you’re okay sleeping out here?”

Gregory met his gaze, looking irritated. “Yes, Chris. We’ve talked about this almost ten times now.”

“I know!” Christophe muttered, taking a sip of his drink. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable sleeping on the fucking couch.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Gregory insisted. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. Kind of cozy.”

“It still doesn’t feel right to me.”

Gregory gave a light snort. “Says the gent who slept in his car for a whole year.”

“Hey, at least I had an air mattress in that truck.”

“I’m just saying,” Gregory replied, “Anywhere can be a bed if you try hard enough. And the couch is fine, alright?”

Christophe shrugged. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Gregory reaffirmed as he organized his papers. “So, I heard talk of getting a cat?”

“Ah. So, he’s convinced of it.”

“Seems that way.”

Christophe swallowed a few crackers. “Do you think he’s too young?”

“To take care of a cat by himself? Of course. To own a cat with you? Not at all. I think it would be good for him.”

“Isn’t it true cats hurt little babies?”

Gregory couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “First of all, Benson is not a baby. Second, not all cats. Many are very protective of children.”

“I just do not want to make the wrong decision. If that cat hurts him, I’ll be forced to skin it alive and I like cats. I’d rather not do that.”

“Maybe we should plan for a day to do a little research. Ask some people at shelters and such?”

Christophe gave a nod. “That could work.”

“Owning a pet would probably help him. Give him something else to torment,” Gregory teased.

Christophe only gave another nod.

The two sat in a comfortable silence, Gregory still looking over his worksheets and making his little notes, while Christophe munched on his late-night snack.

“So, what news of your apartment?” Christophe asked after a while.

“Already gave the landlord my keys,” Gregory stated. “He said he had the perfect person to take my spot.”

“Wow…”

Gregory glanced back at his friend. “What?”

“It’s just…you’re really living here now. Like, you can’t go back.”

Gregory blinked before giving a shrug. “Yes, I suppose so. That’s alright, though. It was just an apartment.”

“But it was _your_ apartment.”

“To tell you the truth, I hoped I wouldn’t keep it forever,” Gregory revealed. “It was too small. It was just all I could afford at the time.”

“Ah, so that is the real reason you wanted to move in,” Christophe chuckled. “Bigger is better.”

“You caught me,” Gregory drawled before giving a soft sigh and shutting his laptop. He clicked his high-lighter’s cap back on, tossing it on the table. He yawned, rubbing at his eyelids. “I think I’m going to get a little sleep.”

Christophe nodded, taking his empty plate and glass into the kitchen. Gregory could hear the soft sounds as he placed them in the sink, washing them off. He curled up against the couch, pulling the blanket over himself. He clicked off the television, allowing the room to be immersed in silence.

The kitchen light turned off, now making whole area nice and dark.

“Good night, Gregory.”

“Good night, Christophe.”

***

“I’m no good at this dumb stuff,” Benson stated firmly, smacking his pencil down on the coffee table.

“We don’t slam things, Benson,” Gregory replied gently, seated beside him on the floor. “And you’re only just beginning. Reading and writing is very hard.”

“I’m just stupid,” the boy mumbled.

Gregory touched his shoulder, tugging slightly to get Benson to look up at him. “You are _not_ stupid. Don’t ever say that,” he said, his voice very serious. “It will get easier the longer you try, but you have to keep trying.”

The boy pouted, tugging at a stray black curl.

“Can’t you give this twenty more minutes? Hm? For me?”

Benson fidgeted in his seat. Then, he gave a reluctant nod.

Gregory smiled, handing him back his pencil. “Now, like I said before, sound out the word, identify each letter, and then we’ll work on writing it out.”

With bated breath, he watched Benson lift up the book, focusing on the word. “Cuh…cuuuuuh…”

“Mhm,” Gregory encouraged him.

“Cuuuuuh-at! Cat!” Benson said, looking a little surprised with himself.

“Perfect!” Gregory praised him. “Now, tell me each letter in cat. Point to them.”

“That’s a ‘C’!” Benson exclaimed. “And that’s an ‘A’! And…” He furrowed his brow, focusing on the last letter. “Ummm…”

“Ca-tuh,” Gregory pronounced. “What letter has a ‘tuh’ sound?”

“Tuh…tuh…‘T’!”

“Very good, Benson! You’re over halfway there!”

Benson gave a smile, looking very proud of himself. Then, he frowned. “Now comes the hard part.”

“You’ll be fine. Just look at each letter one by one and copy it.”

Benson did so, brow furrowed in concentration. Gregory observed his careful rotating of the pencil, the boy’s tongue sticking out slightly. By the time he was done, the letters were a little squiggly, but Gregory could definitely make out the word “cat”.

“Great job! You did it!”

“I did?” Benson replied, his face surprised.

“You did! I knew you could do it!”

The boy jumped up onto his feet, doing his version of a happy dance in the living room (something crossed between the chicken dance and the Cuban shuffle). He then flung his arms around Greg, letting out a squeal of joy.

“Go show your papa!” Gregory said, handing him the paper.

Benson eagerly ran to Christophe’s room, Gregory following behind him. Christophe was seated at his little desk, working on the bills, when Benson rushed in. The boy shoved the paper in his face ecstatically and a small, yet proud smile crossed Christophe’s face.

“Good job, little love,” he said, petting Benson’s head, to which the little boy beamed.

Christophe’s gaze turned up to Gregory, his grin having grown much larger.

Gregory grinned back, giving him a thumbs-up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking this out! I did not create the character of Benson, that credit goes to my fucking amazing rp friend @dovahkiinplease on tumblr, go check them out! Leave a comment, please!


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